The Heart of a Hero by Barbara Wallace Read Free Book Online Page B

Unless—” he glanced over his shoulder “—you’d rather wait ’til morning.”
    “Oh, no, tonight is fine. Sooner they’re out of my hair…that is, my house,” she corrected, “the better.” Stepping closer to the ladder, she aimed the flashlight beam toward the roof. “Bright enough?”
    “It’ll do.”
    They worked in spotted silence. As clear as it was that Jake was in charge, he had a way about him that inspired her to obey his directions. Maybe it was the confidence of his commands or the surety of his movement. Or the way he told her what to do without pretense or a false front. Either way, they workedtogether so easily it took Zoe by surprise. She hadn’t expected them to be such a good team.
    Like Team Brodsky?
    Giving herself a mental kick, she focused on shining her flashlight.
    “Is that it?” she asked when he came down the ladder. “You’re finished?”
    “Doesn’t take very long to plug a hole. By the way, I think they’re all out of the nest, so you can sleep soundly.”
    “Thank goodness,” she said with a sigh. “A warm, bat-free house.” Sounded fantastic. “You, Jake Meyers, are my hero.”
    She couldn’t have picked a worse thing to say. In the white glare of her flashlight, Zoe watched as his expression became a haunted, bitter mask.
    “Don’t ever use that word around me.” He ground out the words through clenched teeth. “A hero is the last thing I am.”

CHAPTER FOUR
    O F ALL the terms Zoe could have used, why’d she have to pick the word hero ? He could still see her face when she said it, too. Lit up like a kid at Christmas, her smile bright in the dark. The minute she grinned, he got a swell of male pride smack in the middle of his chest.
    Jake slammed his beer on the TV tray that doubled as an end table. What right did he have to feel proud about anything, let alone be called a hero? Heroes sacrificed their lives, they saved lives.
    Pushing himself from the sofa, he hobbled to his side window. Next door Zoe’s house was dark, except for one lone window on the second floor. Her bedroom perhaps? Awareness shot to his groin, causing him to groan. He didn’t want to feel this pull of attraction any more than he wanted to feel pride. Mere arousal he could deal with. After all, a man couldn’t always help his physical reaction when an attractive woman crossed his path and he’d be kidding himselfif he didn’t admit Zoe was an attractive woman, in her spunky, wet-kitten kind of way.
    This pull, though… All day long, his skin twitched, while his chest felt tight and empty at the same time. He didn’t like the feeling. Didn’t want the feeling. Hell, he didn’t want to feel, period.
    A cramp ran down the back of his leg. Climbing around all day had him stiff and achy. God, but it had been a long day. Between the nightmare and the flashback, not to mention all the physical labor, he should be ready to drop, and if it were any other night, he would. No such luck tonight. If anything, he was more restless than ever.
    Looked like another long night of bad television. Relinquishing himself to his fate, he headed to the sofa, but not before taking one last look at the house next door. Zoe’s window had gone dark.
    He attributed the strange knot in his chest to beer and exhaustion.
     
    It seemed like Zoe had just fallen asleep when her phone rang. With a groan, she reached over Reynaldo’s sleeping body and grabbed the nightstand clock. Five-thirty. Good God.
    “Good. You’re awake.” Caroline’s voice was laced with coffee and cigarettes.
    “No one’s awake at this hour,” she muttered. Closing her eyes, she burrowed back into her cave of blankets. “What do you want?”
    “Your column.”
    Naturally. Zoe groaned again. “You know, I’m pretty sure your job title reads ‘assistant.’ As in assist, not browbeat.”
    “You hired me to keep you efficient. Which means making sure your column gets in on time. Which means browbeating. And since you’ve